Stay
by Reginald Kastle
Summary: Ryouga talks to a silent Rio about childhood memories. Zexal spoilers from 108 onwards.


Ryouga can't believe this has happened – happened _again_, he's let his guard down for mere seconds and it's not his fault, he's heard the same thing from just about everyone who knows the situation but it still resonates in his head furiously, repeatedly, like a familiar eroding at his soul. _This is your fault_.

And who is he to argue? He slouches further into his seat, closing his eyes and will – begs – for sleep to overcome him, but as the heavy bags under his eyes show, there's no chance his subconscious is going to let himself have any chance of solace until the issue is solved. Why should he anyway?

He thinks finally, he's starting to drift off into sleep when the voice interrupts him, catching his attention in the only way it can. _You're a Barian_ the familiar whispers into his ears, filling his head and its only seconds before he's lost to its grip. _Better off dead, no?_

If anyone had asked him a few days ago, he would have agreed wholeheartedly. But now...

If anything, it's what he deserves.

His eyes snap open with a flash and he bends over in the chair, his fingers clawing at the skin around his chest as he tries to control himself. Sweat sheens his face and a whimper escapes his throat before he can stop himself; his heartbeat is swinging out of control which is making it awfully hard for him to breathe or do anything that constitutes to his ongoing survival. He wonders, is this his repentance? His own sufferable self-hate causing him to simply fall apart from the inside out?

Why, that's no fair on Rio.

And it's that simple thought that lets him take control of his body, he closes his eyes and lets go of his heart, lets his hand fall to his side as his chest rises and falls with each breath that is forced to and from his body until its simply natural again. His heart rate slows to its natural rate and he's glad; it's a cowardly move but he wants nothing more than to be able to breathe properly again, to sleep and dream; to remember that he _deserves_ to be alive.

Oh, he wishes it were that simple still.

His eyes dart to his hand – it's still shaking as he registers what's happened. _Panic attack._ They've happened for as long as he can remember – but recently, so few and far between he had the selfish thought of thinking that they were permanently gone. But it's a crude reminder that they aren't, and he's forced to suffer through the notions again and again, the frequency between them becoming too close for his liking at all, but that's always how it is, no?

His internal battle continues as a thought comes to him; he remembers when he used to have them frequently as a child – did he have frequent panic attacks as a child? Are these even his memories? – And the only thing that could return his shaking hands to normal.

He reaches out until his hands wrap around Rio's left hand. It's still limp, as lifeless as her eyes that are now taped shut with little pieces of black tape. Ryouga frowns at this; surely that would hurt to take off? He wonders in the many times that he was taken to hospital, was his eyes ever taped shut like that?

He's seen it on a few other patients, though they're mostly in the ICU. Rio's finally stable enough to be moved into her own room, though you'd never expect it as the small beeping noise coming from her heart monitor resonating through the room. Ryouga takes solace in the sound; it means that if anything, she's still alive.

His thumb traces at her knuckles absentmindedly, his thoughts filling with the same thoughts that connect to him every time he touches his twin's hands. "God Rio, your hands are freezing." He almost laughs at the comment, but he's interrupted by the sound catching in his throat; it comes out as a choked sob.

"You're so coldblooded; I don't understand how you don't just shut down without the sunlight." He continues as he leans closer and blows air on her hands softly, letting the warm air heat at her skin like he's done thousands of times before. "Your circulation has always been terrible. You really should do more freestyle when you go swimming, maybe your back won't hurt so much." He doesn't even need to touch her shoulders to know they're tense; it's been so long since Rio's gone and had the knots smoothed out of her tense muscles that he can't even remember it.

His eyes slide swiftly from side to side, and he knows that his only company is the wilting flowers that Kotori has incessantly brought every few days – he sounds ungrateful every time she brings more with well wishes and even he has to admit, she is a lovely person and he's glad Rio's got a friend like her, but he can't bring himself to thank her, he can't even bring himself to look at her.

He finds it almost ironic that she brings white and yellow flowers with her each time – the yellow is obvious, they are friends after all – but the white? He remembers Rio telling him one day _if anyone ever gives you white flowers you know they have a secret to hide_ – and it seems only fitting, as they both share a secret that Kotori doesn't know, no – one knows save Durbe and Astr-

He releases Rio's hand to bring one of his own to his mouth, scrunching his face in pained anguish as he remembers. He doesn't have to worry about Astral. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

He's not sure how long he sits there, his slightly sharpened teeth digging into the soft, worn skin of his bottom lip. He registers that it's probably been days since he last showered, but it's not as if Rio can actually smell him or anything, so honestly, he couldn't care less. There's not much he does care for lately, and even the things he does care about;

Well, they're very much better off without him.

He doesn't even want to think of anything that's going on around him; none of it really matters at the moment, if not for Rio's survival. He regrets the thought immediately, his mind wandering with a sting to the memory – for he hasn't seen Yuma since, he's only seen people that have bothered to come to see Rio, and Kotori says that Yuma hasn't even left his room. He's kind of glad, because even the memory stings in a way he can't comprehend – it's more than his self hate and pity, it's something more that he doesn't understand, and he guesses he probably never will.

His hands find their ways around Rio's again, and he closes his eyes as he tries to think of something – _anything _– to get the image of Yuma on his knees bawling his eyes out eradicated from his mind. He spots a small scar on his left arm and before he realizes what he's doing, he's talking.

"Hey Rio," he calls, knowing she won't answer. "Do you remember this?" he points at the scar he's just noticed, barely there but old enough to be there for what he thinks will be forever. "I do. We were eight, and I took one of your toys and put it in the washing machine. I was trying to do what I thought was the right thing to do because I'd accidentally poured syrup onto it, how was I supposed to know that it would completely come apart in the wash?" he pauses to gather himself before continuing. "You were furious, and when you grabbed me, you scratched me so hard you tore skin and it bled. It actually scarred. I was as surprised as you were, really. What was that, sibling squabble number fifty-four?" he counts the times off on his fingers. "Something like that. I never bothered to keep track, that was your thing."

He slumps into the chair again, furious at himself. He feels the corner of his lips curl upwards, trying, _begging_ to give him a reason to smile again, because memories like that – they're something different, they're not upsetting or awful or anger inducing, even if they were at the time. Now? They're simply funny. Funny that they could be so angry about something that in the end seems so simple in the grand scheme of things.

"and do you remember that time when we were ten and you broke two of my teeth by slamming my head against a wall when I wouldn't stop making fun of you?" he allows himself to laugh, though the sound catches in him again and it comes out too forced for his liking. "You were so lucky they were my baby teeth and not my adult ones. They had to take my teeth out and I had to walk around for a few months with no front teeth. Do you remember that, Rio?"

"what about even recently, when those two imbeciles from Yuma's year went around and spread that rumour that Yuma and yourself were dating, and you challenged me to a duel because you thought I was responsible?" he allows a smile at that. "I've never had such a confusing duel in my life, only because I didn't know why you had called me out so suddenly. And why you _brought up my onion and pepper hates in front of Yuma_." He stresses the words because as stupid as it is, he can recognise that enough, it still somehow strikes a nerve with him. "You lost out in a way there, because now every time I go to Yuma's for dinner he makes sure that there's neither in any of the food. Does that make you mad, Rio?"

He doesn't expect an answer, but he fires off more of his memories of their childhood, any that he can think of that comes to his head. "Do you remember when I tried to ride my tricycle down a hill and crashed into a ditch? We were only really small then, maybe 3 or 4. But you still pulled the tricycle off me and got me to the nearest hospital. I never actually thanked you for that." He looks at her hand almost completely covered by his, and chooses to not look anywhere else. "I- there were a lot of times I should have thanked you, but I didn't. I was young and stupid. I guess I still am. _We're_ still young and stupid. Though even putting the words stupid and you in the same sentence just doesn't seem right."

He trails off, lost in his own thoughts. He stays that way for a long time, only muttering a few words in response to the nurse who walked in to check Rio's vitals, before leaving them alone together. He finally casts a glance at her, and she looks almost surreal, it's hard for him to believe what he's seeing.

Though, to be fair that's nothing new for him recently.

"Rio." He speaks suddenly, waiting as the word hangs around the room and sinks down around them like an added pressure to the already tense atmosphere. He's not sure he can even hear what he's rambling on about, though he hopes she can. "It's going to be hard from now on. Even harder than it was before. I mean, now I just can't pull out of this war whenever I want. And now, you've been sucked in. You'd argue saying that you always have been involved, but you haven't, not to me anyway. They're going to expect you to fight." He diverts his attention back to their hands before continuing. "I'll always do what I can to protect you, you know that. But I can understand if you don't want to come back. That coma can't be as comfy as it looks though, surely.

"What I mean is; if you don't come back, its okay. I might not be able to accept it, but I can understand. But don't come back just because you think you have to join the barians. You still have a choice here. I-" he stops, biting his lip before continuing. "I'm going to stay, and fight with Yuma. I can't turn my back on him, not after what he's done for me.

"But at the same time, don't think you have to stay with us too. It pains me to say it, but if you want to join the barians, I won't stop you. Like I said before, it's freely your choice and yours alone. I can lose you like that, if I don't lose you here, like this. If you wake and want to join them, I'll let you go. If you stay."

Bile rises in his throat and he has to physically force himself to swallow as he brings her hand to his lips. "Do you remember when I was twelve and got my first guitar?" he murmurs to her, his eyes drooping shut as everything took a hold of him. "and you insisted that I make something for you, and I said that the only time I would was at your wedding or your funeral?" he bites his lip again but it's too much and he's held on for so long, the weight is so heavy that at first he doesn't even notice the warm streaks of water rolling freely down his already disgraced cheeks.

They're the first tears he's cried in a long time, and he hates himself for it, hates that he's crying and he hates that all the pain that Rio's had to suffer through is his fault not to mention Yuma as well and even Kaito in a way; he hates that he even has to say these words, hates that they come out in ugly gross sobs, but what else can he do? He's no neurosurgeon, he has no idea what else to do and she's almost gone from his grasp and she's the only familiarity he has left.

"Rio, Rio, Rio, _please_ don't make me have to write a song."


End file.
